


The Butler and the Maid

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Recreational Drug Use, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game was lost, and Dave Strider was the only survivor. Scared of death and with nothing left to lose, he cast himself into the Furthest Ring where he wandered, until he came across a man in white with an offer for employment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butler and the Maid

The mansion was amazingly spacious. Ever last room was the size of Bro's whole apartment, and offered about ten times as much luxury. It was also incredibly green. Green oriental carpets, green clocks, green floorboards, green walls, green clocks, green furniture, green fireplace, green clocks, green tv, green picture of a dragon flying over what appeared to be the British navy, green clocks. Dave idly wondered if starting up the fireplace would produce some sickly green fires, too.

and over here David, is the kitchen. You will find it well stocked of all things suited to your tastes, as well as every other member of this family.

The kitchen looked more like an armory, row upon row of identical stainless steel fridges, cupboards, shelves filled with spices and those weird angled pigeonhole things that held bottles. Lots of those two, each one stacked with a different type of alcohol. 

Yo, the name is Dave not David. It's not short for anything.

He turned to regard the cue ball headed man through his shades. Dave wasn't sure what was more unnerving, the way he crackled like Jade's devilbeast or the fact that he was actually shorter than him. There ought to be some law against godly being taking the form of little midget men in funny suits. Maybe that was the point, and the cosmos had a sense of irony. On the flipside, maybe it was completely sincere and this weird hybrid of a puppet and a cue ball was exactly what he looked like. 

Oh, I know. I know everything after all. However don't you think 'Dave' is a little too informal for one just entering our employ? I would hate to alienate you with undue social intimacy.

Then just call me Strider, this isn’t hardly rocket science.

Very well then, Mister Strider shall do for now.

So hey, you got any AJ in here?

Of course. Freshly squeezed and chilled to just the temperature you prefer. It is in the third fridge from the left. Help yourself.

Sure thing, Doc.

He went over to the fridge pointed out, and sure enough, between a Tupperware container of mystery meat and a plate of leftover pizza was a line of apple juice stretching all the way to the back of the gargantuan fridge. Take all the shelves out and the thing could probably hold a whole cow for you to just peel the meat off of like some giant meat cheese stick. Dave took out a bottle, nudged the door shut with his knee and twisted the cap off with a satisfying pop. The chilled liquid went down real good. 

Moving on with the tour, next we have the library, between pool rooms #1024 and #1026. You will find this room satisfactorily stocked with everything you will ever want to read.

Dave eyed the door to the library suspiciously.

Is this one of those uncertainty things? Say no one in the Felt ever actually chooses to go into the library, it could be completely empty and the thing you just said is still technically true. Further with that, say I look in there just to make sure, unless I actually check, all the books could be empty. Hell, I could flick through random pages from random books until I'm bored shitless and give up, but it could still be possible only those exact pages had anything on them, and no one would ever know but you until you come up to me one day, decades from now, tug on the ankles of my incredibly tall pants and say 'by the way Mr Strider, the library was empty all along' and I fall to my knees sobbing 'I know, Doc, I know'.

Yes. Or it could just as easily be I have in fact fully stocked it with literature pertaining to your and everyone's regardless of if you will actually choose to read them or not, for the sake of propriety. I believe therein lies the true joke. Haa haa. Hee hee. Hoo hoo.

You are a real creepy man, Doc.

Not at all.

Dave chose not to dwell on the matter of if that was a statement that he didn't mind or a rejection of the label of creepy man. If he got in the habit of openly questioning every ambiguous thing the puppet-man said he doubted his sanity would last long. The two of them moved on to another part of the mansion. It seemed to be some sort of clock gallery, which was saying a lot because literally every room in the mansion so far had seemed like a clock gallery for all the time pieces placed about. This one seemed more to the point of it, though. Rather than being placed where there was empty space that needed filling, these clocks were all lined up against the wall of the circular room, of a wide variety of make and sizes, each one distinct and unique in its manufacture.

So what sort of rules am I expected to follow as a member of The Felt?

Dave peered into an odd, crocodile looking clock and tapped its face, held in the crocodile's mouth. 

Obey the orders of myself and Lord English. Make sure Snowman doesn't die. Do try not to succumb to the urge to kill any other members, but I understand how difficult that can be at times. Try to keep collateral damage down, and try to stay alive.

I like that. Simple and straightforward.

Indeed. There is none of the pressure of your previous life. These are your co-workers, not necessarily your friends, and you are not expected to look out for them. If you fail in your assignments, it is you who will suffer, and you alone. Do as you're told, and you will enjoy a long life of luxury. That burdensome free will of yours might as well not exist, how little it will troubler you now.

Yeah, yeah, I get it. This is the Gang Inevitable, and I'm a right sucker for signing on with you.

Indeed, but then, who isn't a sucker?

Exactly.

He took for granted that was a rhetorical question.

Dave stared into the clock in front of him. It ticked and tocked and ticked and tocked in perfect rhythm. Maybe later he'd work on some time-themed beats, get into the spirit of things. Tick-tock, tick-tock. He closed his eyes. He could picture the clock's hands. Picture the gears they were attached to. Then there were gears that entwined teeth with those gears, and those gears had more gears, the finely tuned interaction between the different sized gears could all be traced back to the perfect pendulum that swung beneath them. A shiver ran down his spine.

Forgive my interruption, but it seems Crowbar and the others have returned. This marks the end of our little tour, but if you wish to know where something is do not hesitate to ask.

Dave looked up from the clock and blinked. Doc Scratch stood motionless in the center of the room.

Hmm? Oh, sure. That's cool. What should I do now?

If you go down that hall,

Doc Scratch pointed towards one of the room's twelve doors. 

In the room at the end, you should find The Handmaid. Inform her that I have instructed her to show you around, and otherwise assist you in any way she can.

Down that hall, see The Handmaid, got it.

One last thing. You may find about the mansion a number of doors with blank nameplates across them. These are empty bedrooms and you may choose from any among them to be yours. Of course, I already know which one you will choose. Won't be long.

There was a brilliant green flash, and the doctor vanished, leaving Dave alone in the room. 

So,

He addressed the chorus of clocks.

I guess I'm a gangster now.

The clocks all tocked in reply. 

 

Making no effort not to scuff his shoes on the expensive green carpet, Dave headed down the hallway the Doc had pointed out. He passed more clocks and a picture of some Cayuga ducks standing on grass, and came to a green door, the nameplate on it marked only with the sign of Aries in a deep red. He shrugged to no one in particular, and knocked twice.

When neither voice nor movement could be heard, he shrugged again and pushed open the door. It wasn't like the Doc hadn't told him to go in.

Inside the room was more green patterned carpet, and green wallpaper that looked like it was supposed to be a magic eye puzzle or just mess with your vision, with dark and light stripes on curved lines spaced just right so it's hard to identify the actual pattern. There was a pink and red table with two red chairs and two red teacups, and a red bed with pink and gray sheets. On the bed, laying on her stomach, was a girl reading a magazine. That wasn't too unexpected, it wasn't often you heard of a male handmaid. No, it was a few other things that were unexpected. The gray skin and candy-yellow horns that marked her as a troll were unexpected. That she looked to be his own age, if not a bit older was unexpected. That her skirt hugged the curves of her rather shapely ass; that was bowtie looseningly unexpected. Dave did not loosen his bowtie, however. Dave did not do much of anything. When Doc Scratch had said 'Handmaid' he had expected some plain woman dressed like a nun, or some exotic beauty done up like Leia in Jabba Hutt's clutches so obviously untouchable it wouldn't even register. This unforeseen scenario was alien territory, and needed careful planning before each move.

When the person in her room went five minutes without making a single sound, The Handmaid threw her magazine to the ground and turned around. She held her hair up in a bun with two white needles, allowing a single black lock to fall either side of her face. She wore a green floral patterned top and a matching pleated skirt that came down to her knees, and socks but no shoes, at least while she was on the bed. Her pouting lips and large eyelashes were both colored a deep red, but her eyes were the most striking feature. Neither pupil nor cornea could be seen for the kaleidoscope of color that they shone with. When she saw Dave, and not Doc Scratch as she was expecting, her frown deepened and she scowled at the boy. Dave raised an eyebrow above the rim of his shades. The Handmaid's expression turned to one of confusion, and she cocked her head.

So yeah, the Doc said to see you to, well basically cover the rest of my initiation and see to it I'm suitably distracted until he finds something for me to do I guess.

When she didn't say anything, he let himself keep rambling.

You don't seem to talk much. Are you mute? That's cool I guess. Not to be insensitive to your particular affliction or romanticize it or anything, just saying I'll try not to think about it when considering you. Or is it 'keep it in mind when thinking about you'? Is it more PC to step around your issue, or to not treat you any differently regardless? I never did pay much attention to Saturday morning cartoons that didn't involve robots and/or ninja beast men.

He stroked his chin pensively, like he was about to make a startling breakthrough into understanding his own psyche.

I'M SORRY.

Her hands flew to her mouth at her outburst and she scowled.

Whoa, hey, you're not mute after all. Guess I jumped to conclusions there. That wasn’t not cool of me at all.

She carefully lowered her hands and tried again.

I'm sorry. Ballhead knows your words before you say them. So I thought. Why bother saying them? And the habit of not saying things formed.

She sat up on her bed, hugging her knees and watching the human with rapt curiosity.

Yeah I can see how that could happen quite easily. I get the impression he finds little ways to not quite drive insane every person he talks to. A real sly dude.

Yes. He is very infuriating. He gives me things. Just so he can take them away.

She appraised the boy before her.

From your green suit. Also that you are here at all. I take it you are also Felt now?

Yeah, I've thrown my lot in with this time gang. Didn't have much else going for me where I came from.

You are Felt. But your skin is not green.

She cocked her head to the side. 

You mean like those other guys? yeah, I saw one of them earlier, Cans I think his name was? Either way I won't be heading back to the hot tub in a hurry any time soon, let me tell you it was like a cross between a treant and a Canadian lumberjack, some horrible self-hating mix between tree trunks and hairy swoleness. So yeah, maybe they’re different, or maybe being surrounded by all this green stuff all the time has the same effect as tanning under a green sun, who knows?

The Handmaid laughed. She held the side of her finger across her lips when she laughed like she was doing something very cheeky, and when she laughed it sounded like the tinkle of wind chimes.

You are funny. I am The Handmaid. What do they call you?

Call me? You mean like a title or nickname or whatever? Well, I sometimes got called Coolkid, but that hardly seems appropriate. I've sure as all hell proved me to be no knight. Hmm, what about my old handle? Yeah, that'll work. It's a pleasure to meet you Handmaid, I'm The Turntech.

Turntech. Good name. Shut the door Turntech. Sit with me.

She patted the bed beside her and smiled, showing off her dimples. Dave pursed his lips and swallowed. Wasn't there something odd about this? Wasn't she meant to be showing him around? Nonetheless he shut the door behind him and walked over to the bed. He awkwardly took a seat beside her, and tried not to think too hard about how little frame of reference he had for being in a girl's room. Check that, in the room of a girl still around to lay claim it. 

So, uhh...

She leaned into him, and rested her head on his shoulder. If thoughts were fish, she'd just dropped dynamite in his barrel.

You smell nice. Like a harvest.

Really? I had some apple juice just before. That might be it? I mean, I got a whole fridge full of the stuff now, just for me apparently. I mean, I'm not selfish. I love AJ, but I'm more than happy to share some with you if you like it. Sounds like we got pretty much a limitless supply of everything forever anyway.

Let me taste your apple breath.

What?

She entwined her arms around his neck, looked up, and pulled his head down to meet hers. Their lips met. His mouth slightly parted and she took a sharp, sudden breath, sucking the air from him. She kissed him again, longer this time, and lowered her mouth to nibble on his bottom lip. She pulled away, looked him in the eyes and licked her lips.

You are delicious.

Oh god.

She laughed again. Chimes in the wind. No, not quite. A tuning fork's reverb. 

You flatter me. But who should be worshiping who?

Her fingers moved to the buttons of his tuxedo jacket, undoing them and throwing them open so she could run her hand under his shirt and across his chest.

So, Handmaid, not that I'm really complaining but, isn't this like, super-fast? We just met and all

Dave gulped hard when she looked up at him. Her red-lashed kaleidoscope eyes drew him in and trapped him in the well of her vagary.

We have a long time together. I like you already. You are funny. You are not a stupid old man.

She undid the buttons of his shirt one by one and spread it open, splaying her fingers across his lean stomach. Her gray digits traced the paths of his spry, toned abdominals. 

I don't get it.

With a gentle shove, she pushed him down onto her bed, and laid herself across his chest.

Someday, we will part. Let us be close until then.

I don't really get it but I guess you've been alone for a while, huh.

He rubbed the back of her head and lifted her chin to look at her, but she cast her gaze aside.

He gives me things. Just so he can take them away.

With a toss of her head, she shook herself free of his hold. She sat up; shapely gray legs splayed across his stomach, and reached up to the back of her head. She moved languorous and smooth, her gestures not yet as perfectly refined as the Doctor's, but something approaching that impeccable grace of movements. She slid the two blanched needles from her hair and tossed her head, letting her long black curls fall around her shoulders. The needles were dropped on the chair beside her bed, and she lowered herself back down, placing her head beside Dave's. 

I'm not planning on going anywhere. This is a lifetime gig and I plan to keep both feet firmly set behind the booth until the floor is clear. Wait that one kind of got away from me there.

She laughed again, and moved up to nibble gently on his earlobe.

Oh, oh shit hang on that is not fair that's just my fucking ear that is not supposed to feel so -hngg

His mumbling was interrupted by a not entirely displeasing pinch to his nipple. With her other hand, she pressed two fingers into his pursed lips. She bit his tender lobe, making him gasp, and slipped her fingers into his mouth. More on instinct that conscious choice he sucked down, squeezed his lips around her fingertips to test their tension, sucked them in to taste under her tails with his tongue and pushed them back out with gentle pressure from his teeth before starting all again. The Handmaid moved her head down lower, kissing his check and his jaw, then nuzzling into the nape of his neck to prick it with more love bites. Dave moaned around her fingers at the sharp sensation, and she drew the delectable sound out of him as long as she could. When he was finally out of breath she took her fingers from his mouth and sat up. Panting heavily, she undid the two buttons of her floral-print shirt, one black and one white, and threw it open to reveal the plain green top she wore beneath it. With a sharp tug, the pull-strings came undone, and her top fell about her waist. Dave stared through his shades in rapt attention at the breathless heaving of her naked chest. Her prominent gray nipples stood out upon the slight swell of her barely-there breasts.

You are good with your mouth. I want to feel my nipples between your teeth.

She leaned back and flashed him a dimpled smile, wiggling her bare chest in invitation and still panting with excitement.

Well, not even I'm one to turn down an obscenely generous offer like that. Don't even need a coupon, I mean, wait, shit.

The Handmaid laughed, and pulled him up by his open shirt to press his head against her chest. Her heart was beating fast, drastically faster than his, pounding against her chest so hard it almost felt like she was vibrating, like she might shake herself apart. 

Your eyes. Let me see them.

With just her thumb she tilted his head up, and carefully removed the shades from his face. She peered into his bright red eyes and smiled. Dave gulped, and tried to reassess the situation. There was a beautiful, half naked gray girl on his lap, with luscious lips, eyes like the northern lights, and dimples to die for. His head was a hormonal mess of excitement and anxiety and it was literally impossible to hold any thought for more than a second without getting distracted by the ridge of her collarbones or the curve of her dark, striking eyebrows or the pout of her lip, and he could feel the heat radiating off her alien body like a living furnace, and even if she wasn't about to combust and crumble he could feel his own internal clockwork struggling to keep up. He was awash in a sea of molten testosterone and the only thing he could do to stop his mind crashing and burning was to try and ride it out. He licked his lips, which had never felt more parched, and turned his head to one of the nipples in front of him. He took it into his mouth, sucked, and pulled his head back slightly until it popped out, then pulled her closer to suck down on it again. She played with his hair, breathing in sharp, happy sighs as he teased her nipple with his teeth. He had one of his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight, while the other rubbed and groped the soft, smooth skin of her thigh hidden beneath her green skirt. 

Come on mister ah-apple harvest. Be as rough as you are needy. Bless me with your bountiful crop.

He worried her nipple with his teeth and sucked hard, making her voice hitch in her throat. The hand on her thigh moved further under her skirt and grasped the band of her panties. He only meant to yank them down, but he pulled so hard and fast the band snapped and her undergarment came clean off in his hand. She dug her fingers into his scalp and panted even harder, so at least she seemed to appreciate the accidental gesture. Before his mind could catch up and betray him with hesitation, Dave returned his hand to under her skirt and probed blindly with his fingers. Vaguely aware he'd been there aware, he moved his oral ministrations to her other hardened nipple and met it with the same needy ferocity.

Between her thighs was already sticky with arousal, and he smeared her fluids around with his fingers as he tried to form a tactile map. He pushed down experimentally against her puffy out lips, feeling the heat they gave off from all the blood they were engorged with, then put two fingers between them and gave long, hard strokes up and down until he managed to part her inner lips. He looked up from her breast to try and gauge how he was doing, and was rewarded with the sight of her worrying her trembling bottom lip as her big, dusty red eyelashes fluttered in euphoria.

Don't slow. I can feel the stars.

She cooed, and took one of her hands from her head to roughly knead one flatcake breast. Back between her legs, Dave's kinetic mapping had rewarded him with a rough idea of what he was working with here. He traced his way back down to her entrance, shifted his elbow, and gently slid two fingers into pussy all the way to the knuckle. She hissed through clenched teeth, and he could feel her muscles clamping down.

Was that okay? I didn't cut you with my nails or something did I?

She looked down at him with her almond shaped and and took a deep, moaning breath.

All of my insides. They are a burning itch. Scratch them before I die.

While he slowly swirled his fingers around inside her, Dave brushed his thumb across The Handmaid's slit until he found the stiff, prominent nub he was looking for. He breathed a silent prayer of gratitude to the Internet's education system, and carefully pulled his hand back. With the way his fingers were arranged, as his fingers were pulled out from The Handmaid's pussy his thumb rubbed across the top of her clit. He reversed the motion, pushing his fingers against her vaginal roof and rubbing his thumb back across her clit. The Handmaid let out a hitched, shuddering gasp of approval. Okay, he could do this. Probably. Not much different from scratching a record. He pumped his hand back and forth again, trying to find a good rhythm. As long as he focused on the technical details he could keep himself from getting overwhelmed from the fact that there was a beautiful girl almost literally wrapped around his finger, making the sexiest fucking sounds he'd never dreamed possible. He noticed a drop of sweat beading on her attention starved nipple, moved back towards it and gingerly lapped it up. It tasted acrid and sour, and sent bursts of static to all the wrong parts of his brain such that he clamped back down on her nipple there and then to try and drown it out in other sensations. His other hand was also restless, and he snaked it up the inside of her unbuttoned shirt to trace patterns around her back with his short, filed nails. Every one of his senses was utterly consumed by the alien before him, her sweat and arousal in his nose, her gasps of rhapsody in his ears, her goosefleshed nipple on his tongue, her flawless gray skin in his eyes, her outsides on one hand and her insides on the other. At some point his sense of rhythm got shot to all hell because the hand under her skirt was working as fast as he could physically manage without hurting her, but she didn't seem to mind because her back was arched and she was digging her nails into his back like he might get whisked away at any moment and then she flinched, very prominently flinched with her whole body. She shook and trembled and curled her toes and babbled something in a thick accent he couldn't even hope to parse. His hand suddenly felt extremely wet, and hot, thick ropes of genetic fluid sprayed from her loins. It went up his arm, down his leg, across his bare stomach, and when he pulled back to see what the hell was happening, the shot hit him in the chest, and splashed up over his face.

Oh. Oh god. Oh sweet jegus. That's the thing. The thing with the bucket for.

Dave looked down at himself. The fluid was a pale burgundy, thick and viscous. Under different lighting he'd look like he'd just emerged from the scene of a massacre. 

Oh fuck, you are a one woman bukkake theater and I am your horrible squeaky porno bitch.

He licked his lips and swallowed, inadvertently tasting her genetic fluid in the process.

Sweet fucking, why was that so hot? I almost creamed my pants like a kid having his first wet dream; it should be illegal for that to be that hot.

Her mouth was parted in a wide, dopey grin. Still twitching and dripping from her orgasm, she crawled towards him on all fours, her hips swaying languorously. 

Applegod. Can't stop yet.

She took his arm, dripping to the elbow with her gamete-rich juices, and dragged her soft gray tongue up and down each surface and crevice of his hand like it held the secret to eternal happiness. Once it was whatever she felt was appropriately cleaned or tasted, she pushed him back down onto her bed and set to work on his pants.

Wow, hey, careful with that.

She tore the fly open, sending the buttons flying, and yanked his pants and underwear both down with a single pull, returning the favor for her panties earlier. On his back as he was, he dick lay flat against his stomach, which was still slick with trollcum, and so glutted with blood it looked like it might burst, or at least blow at any second. The Handmaid propped it up with her hand and nuzzled her cheek against it, and peppered it with kisses along its shaft before giving a long, hard lick up the length of his frenulum. This was entirely too much already. A thick rope of white cum hit The Handmaid square in the face. She beamed with delight like Christmas had come early, and pointed Dave's dick while jerking it so he shot the rest of his built up orgasm across her flat tits.

Oh fuck. Oh man, I'm sorry that was way too fast. Give the little guy ten minutes and he'll be right back on the front line.

He panted, trying to get his breath back and quell his light-headedness. She laughed giddily, looking from her cum shot chest to Dave and back again, an earnest, dimpled smile on her face.

You don't even care, do you? Girl, you are a lot kinkier than I gave you credit for, and for that I a-hah-hah-

Whatever else Dave had planned to say was wiped out by the feeling of his thick, plump lips wrapping around his still hypersensitive glans.

Oh shit, no, you can't jussssssssss-

He hissed in protest as she took the rest of his softening penis in his mouth, and squirmed as she manipulated it with her tongue, poking and prodding and licking and sucking and looking right up at him the whole time. 

This is it. This is how the Dave ends. Sexed to death on his first day as a gangster.

The Handmaid slid her mouth off his penis with a pop and a gasp, and flopped it around in her hand, marveling at its slight weight and flexibility. She wrapped one dainty hand around the shaft and gave it a few experimental strokes, before letting go and slurping it back up into her mouth with her tongue. He curled her lips over her teeth, grasped the base of the glans with her mouth and slowly moved her head back to see how hard it could stretch.

Okay, that is a really dangerous thing you're doing and it would be super cool if you could not do that.

She released his dick and pouted, but swiftly forgot the matter entirely as she noticed something else to play with. She made a beeline for his testicles, and gently cupped his scrotum in her hand. 

See, that's even more delicate, be extra careful with those.

Dave was half scared out of his mind she mind genuinely break something, but he couldn't keep himself from grinning at the raw, unfiltered glee she got from just playing around with his junk. Every now and then she toyed with the semen on her chest, rubbing it into her slight breasts, or scooping up a small dollop on her finger and going under her skirt to rub it into her snatch. With unfaultable delicacy, she carefully squeezed his scrotum, getting a feel for the weight and shape of each testicle, then lifting it up and licking the underside of his sack before wrapping her mouth around one of his balls with just the barest hint of pressure. One of her hands kept toying with his shaft the entire time, and between the two parts, Dave soon found himself growing hard again proper. As soon as she noticed his growing arousal, she took his penis back into her mouth and bobbed her head several times until she felt him fully harden against her tongue. She pulled of and flashed him a dimpled smile, idly palming his glans.

The Turntech flag is raised. Bend me across my bed. You do me hard. Like people in magazines.

She crawled off the bed, took Dave by the hand, and pulled him up after her. The Handmaid was panting again, biting her lip and glancing from Dave's naked face to his erect penis pointing at her.

You want me to be in charge for this? I'm frankly not convinced you don't know what you're doing more than I do, I'm not even sure I put the negatives in the right place there. Still, if that's what you insist then I'll sure as hell do my best to comply.

He held her arms and kissed her, lingering for an extra moment against her delectable lips, then turned her around and gently shoved her at the bed. She fell with a giggle, and when she hit the bed she bounced just enough to show the mattress wasn't solid. Dave walked up behind her and flipped her skirt up. He took a moment to admire her bare ass. Though of no remarkable thickness, her supple buttocks had immaculate form. He took one gray cheek in hand and gave it a squeeze, feeling the toned muscle beneath the yielding softness. The entire underside of her skirt and inside of her thighs was still sticky from her orgasm earlier, and a trickle of fresh arousal glistened on her folds. She wiggled her ass at him impatiently.

Slap me. Spear me. Do not be afraid.

Taking her at her word, and already thinking about it himself, Dave gave her right cheek a sharp slap. She wiggled furiously on the bed, and Dave put his hands on her hips to steady her.

Okay, I'm going to put it in now, just a head's up or something.

Dave idly wondered if he possibly could have worded that any more tactlessly. He rubbed the head of his penis up and down her slit, making doubly sure everything was wet enough and not about to give them both the worst carpet burn imaginable. Once satisfied, he lined himself up with her opening and thrust in.

The second he was in, she clamped down, her vaginal muscles squeezing him like a vice.

How do you find me? Your tastes. Do I suit them?

Her voice sounded a bit odd, and Dave almost laughed when he realized it was worry. Despite all her nymphomaniacal gung-ho, she was just as uncertain as he was. Somehow that put him at ease a lot more than he thought it would. He pulled out just slightly, and thrust into her again.

Handmaid, you would not even believe how good this feels. You are fucking fantastic.

He slapped her ass again, causing her to moan and wiggle her hips. He smiled to feel her start to relax around him more, and pulled out just a bit further than last time to thrust into her yet again. She didn't tense up again, and rather than stop Dave remained in motion, pulling his hips back and swinging them forward. Even this was like music, he thought to himself, and fell into a basic beat. Thrust, slap, thrust-thrust, slap. Thrust, slap, thrust-thrust, slap. The heat from her pussy was amazing, and he relished every second of it. She was burning up beneath him, molten, pure sexual fission. He wouldn't be surprised if his dick came out tanned or even burned, and the way she sang out to him as he hit just the right spot inside her made it all so perfectly worth it. He picked up the pace, spurred on by the growing red tinges on her smooth gray cheeks under hand. The whole bed rocked each time he thrust into her, and he couldn't get enough of that wet sound as she became increasingly more soused with arousal. Dave could feel the pressure starting to build, his release was approaching. He started taking longer, deeper thrusts, to try and draw it out, but the way she sang out in wanton rapture every time he struck her raw, bare ass was simply too perfect to his ears. He sheathed himself, balls deep in her pussy and came hard, deep inside her molten body. She cooed happily as she felt him cum, massaging and milking his dick with her inner muscles.

Wait. Stay inside. Just a bit longer.

Dave happily complied, coasting on the post orgasm waves of pleasure. The Handmaid pushed back into him, and switched to grinding against his groin as his dick started to soften. Not one to leave her hanging, Dave reached down between them to work her clit with his fingers. He set right in, rubbing its hood as hard as he dared. The white-red mix of their juices frothed up around their united flesh.

Oooh. Arrival. Almost. Now.

Her burgundy fluids hit his crotch with surprising force. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of feeling. He held her tight as she spasmed in her throes, and repeated clenching of her pussy squeezed all their mix fluids not already escaped past his dick and spilled them down the bed and over the floor. When she finally stopped shaking, Dave pulled out, drenched from the waist down in trollcum, and flopped down on the bed beside her. 

 

They remained silent for several minutes, making no noise but panting as they tried to catch their breath. Finally, Dave spoke.

Oh man, we made such a mess.

The Handmaid answered with an incoherent moan but crawled, bare assed, towards the head of the bed and grabbed one of the needles off the chair. When she raised it, it lit up with the same brilliant lights her eyes glowed with. With a half assed wave, she shook the needle at no direction in particular, and the room shone with light. A moment later, all the stains of their union had vanished. Dave crawled over next to her.

What was that? Time magic?

Majyyks. Spelling is important. Apparently.

She dropped the needle with a groan, and flipped onto her back.

So, we just did all that. What now?

Dave looked about the room, trying to remember where his shades had been left. When he turned back to the Handmaid, she was holding a modest joint between her fingers. She raised an eyebrow as Dave stared at it. 

Free time. Ballhead doesn't care. As long as work done. When on the clock.

She reached back to her wand and tapped it against the joint's end, lighting in up with a spark.

I have plenty. If you are unsure. I can breathe for both.

I'm sorry, what?

Exhale.

As Dave did, she took a draw on the joint. With a mouth full of smoke, she pressed her mouth against Dave's pursed lips, and pried them open with her tongue. She breathed the smoke into his mouth, and placed her hand on his chest to signal him to breathe in. He sucked the smoke down his throat and into his lungs, vaguely remembered hearing somewhere you were supposed to hold it, waited a few seconds and then breathed out. He was rewarded with one of her dimpled smiles. 

Very good. Now we chill out. Maybe touch each other.

Yeah alright, sound's good to me.

 

Some time passed, and two of them were lying on her bed, passing a joint between them. The whole room filled with a haze of smoke. The Handmaid was lying on her side, her head resting on Dave's chest with his arm hooked around her. Bother were still half dressed. Dave's hand rested on her still tender ass, one finger stretched out to idly stroke back and forth across her slit. For her part, she was keeping herself entertained playing around with his limp penis.

Do the others, the Felt, do they treat you right? Like, do the others try to do...what we just did?

The Handmaid giggled, she could practically see him groping about his brain for the words. The groping around her nethers was also quite nice.

Stupid old men. They prefer the vivacious. Or as they say. Va. Va. Va. Voom. Ballhead has no such thoughts. Or equipment. He just makes people uncomfortable. As a joke. The Lord. His exact words on the subject have been. "It excites me better. When the bitches punish the ground. With each megalithic footstep.” However. He has once or twice. Demanded I hold hands. With Snowman. Not that I am complaining.

...Dude, what?

His perversions. They are beyond comprehension. Or even easily identified. Why do you ask this?

Dave furrowed his brow, and took a draw on the joint.

I'm just...concerned.

I see. You think I can be saved. How touching. That is not possible.

I'm not a hero, I'm no knight. A butler and a gangster is all I'm cut out for. None of us can be saved, but if there's anything I can do to make it easier on you,

I will become a bad woman.

She sighed, and tickled his glans."

Then I will stop being a woman. Only a monster. All I will care about is being allowed to die. And I will find a more bad woman. Than I ever was. I will beg her to kill me. And in doing so. She will become a worse monster than I ever could be. This is inevitable. Ballhead told me. And later. I witnessed it myself. Then I gazed into the eyes of our Lord. And was bound to him.

She looked up at Dave, stared at him with the never-ending light show that afflicted her eyes.

So if you want to make ease. Stay with me. No matter how bad a woman I become. Until the pleasure you bring. I can no longer feel. Then you will forget me.

How cruel.

He took a shallow drag.

As you wish.

 

A silence fell between them as the fog clouded their minds. Finally, Dave spoke.

Hey Handmaid,

Yes. Turntech?

What's- what's you're actual name? Not your title or whatever, your name-name.

What am I called? Not Handmaid?

Yeah.

In time. I will be known as. The Demoness.

No, not that, I mean like,

Dave gestured broadly about the air with the lit end of their current joint.

The thing that you were called when you were born. Hatched. Grubbed. Whatever.

Such I name. I have never known. Began as The Handmaid.

Oh. Man, that's rough. I'm sorry I brought it up.

However. There is one who is me. That I never was. As she is me. As is her name.

Really? What is it?

Damara. Megido.

Well Damara,

He gave her clit a squeeze, and smiled vacantly at the squeak she made.

I was once known as Dave Strider.

He slipped the joint between her lips and held her hand.

A pleasure to meet you, and I look forward to working with you.

She smiled at him, and the smile showed off her dimpled cheeks and the burgundy blush filling them.

The pleasure was. All mine.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for paradoxjelli.tumblr. Check her out. if you haven't already.
> 
> I had a lot of trouble trying to decide how much after Damara the Handmaid should take after. I think I managed to settle on a pretty good place.


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